Tag Archives: tourist

Wow, the energy here at Times Square is just nuts. It’s not even lunchtime yet, and the whole place is going crazy. This is exactly how I’ve always dreamed it would be, the festive atmosphere, all of the people, the hustle, the bustle. I can’t believe we’re only twelve hours away from 2015, and we’re going to be right here, right in the middle of it all, at the crossroads of America when the clock strikes twelve.

And I thought we were getting here early. I guess all the real New Yorkers know what’s what, that you have to come even earlier to stake out a good spot. I can still see the ball though, that’s the most important part. But the stage is so far away, I doubt Ryan Seacrest will notice this cool sign I made. It’s a piece of pink cardstock, it says, “Hey Ryan! We’re so happy to be here in NYC!” Yeah, I’m not too great at coming up with cool slogans, but it’s sincere, we really are very happy to be here. And I dressed it up with all sorts of glitter and ribbon and confetti. Maybe one of the cameras will pan to it, and maybe Ryan will see it on one of his little monitors somewhere.

Yeah, you’re right honey, that coffee I had on the way over was a big mistake. I can’t believe there aren’t any port-a-potties set up. Where are all of these people supposed to go to the bathroom? Luckily, it’s so cold that it’s hard to separate the feeling of having to pee from the sensation of all of the blood leaving my extremities.

No, I can’t be negative. So what, so I have to hold it for a little longer, that’s OK. It’s all about the experience. Times Square, New York City, 2015. Someday we’ll have our own kids, and we’ll be sitting at home in the living room watching the ball drop on TV, and I’ll tell the kids, “Kids, do you know that your mother and I went to Times Square one year?”

And the oldest will be a teenager, and he or she will probably be going through that defiant teenage period, not wanting to hang out with the family, definitely not on New Year’s Eve. “Yeah, you told us that story a million times,” will be the reply. But I’ll know that underneath that sourpuss face, there’s going to be a feeling, a disbelief, like really? My parents went to Times Square on New Year’s Eve? That’s so cool.

You’ll never guess what just happened. There was a commotion going on maybe twenty feet away, and so I pushed through the crowd and got close, and it was a street performer! It’s freezing out, I have three coats and two scarves on, but this guy just had a vest, no shirt, just a vest. And he started juggling bowling pins! Wow, the crowd was going wild. Only in the Big Apple, right?

But then, oh jeez, things just took an ugly turn. This guy started passing around a disgusting old hat, I guess begging for change or something. Everybody kind of just looked at their feet, I felt bad about having recorded his whole act on my phone, so I gave him some spare change, I think it was like thirty-seven cents. But then the guy to my left passed the hat without giving anything. The performer got annoyed, he started saying something about photos and money. I don’t know, good thing there are so many cops here to keep a lid on any trouble. They carted him away, hopefully to get a coat, it’s really, very cold out here, way too cold for only a vest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s homeless, if maybe they’re not doing him a favor. That’s no way to make a living.

Man, I thought I could hold it, but I can’t hold it anymore. There’s still something like ten hours left. If there weren’t so many cops here, I could probably pee somewhere, maybe a cup. I get a shy bladder around large crowds, but this, I don’t know, I’m ready to pop. There’s a dude to my left who looks like he just wet his pants. That’s actually not a bad idea. I mean, it’ll dry, right? And it’s not like I’m going to go back to the hotel. I’ll lose my spot. OK.

Ah … I can’t tell you how great that felt. And I’m sure it’s not going to last very long at all, but I’m just so warm, my pants anyway, I don’t remember ever feeling this warm. But there it goes, now it’s getting cold. And now it’s getting really cold. Ooh, and now it’s freezing. I should have thought about that maybe. I mean, it’s chilly out, yeah, but I didn’t think it was below freezing. Maybe if I just bend back a little, point my crotch toward the sun. This has got to evaporate, right?

No, officer, I didn’t pee myself, I just, I spilled my coffee. Yeah, and then I lost the cup. No, come on, I swear, I’m a tourist. You can’t take me to a shelter. Look, it’ll dry. Please, you have no idea how long I’ve been planning this trip. And what am I supposed to tell my kids? No, honey, you stay, just stay here and celebrate and have fun. One of us needs to be here for when the ball drops. Yes, officer, I’m coming, please, one second here. Honey, take my sign, just, if you see any cameras, try to grab someone’s attention, point to the glitter. OK, I’m going, I’m going. Baby, if they let me out of the shelter, I’ll try to swing back to the hotel, change my pants, and I’ll see if I can’t make it back here. Jeez, there’s no need to get pushy, I’m coming, all right. Honey, Happy New Year! Let me know if you see anybody famous!

Wow. New York City. I hate it. Just kidding, I love it. But seriously, it’s terrible. Haha, that’s my way of telling the Internet how much I love it. Do you get it? Did you read that Onion article? No, you don’t get it. Unless you do get it, in which case, congratulations, you live in New York. If you don’t get it well, you’ll still read this, you’ll think, man people from New York really don’t like living in New York. Ha. You don’t get it.

One of the best things about living in New York is getting to complain about New York. You get to say things like, “Only in New York!” but only to non-New Yorkers. If you ever said, “Only in New York!” to a New Yorker, they would immediately call you out as a tourist, as a non-New Yorker.

Like if I’m visiting my friend in some other city, I don’t know, somewhere else, Baltimore, or, yuck, Cleveland, and it’s three in the morning and we’re in the suburbs somewhere and it’s dark outside and there’s no noise anywhere, I might say something like, “Hey, lets go run to the corner store and get some more beer,” and they’d be like, “What are you talking about, it’s three in the morning, nothing’s open, and everything’s too far away to walk,” and then you’d say, “Oh yeah, right, it’s just that, where I live, you can get anything, any time, and it’s all right down the block. Only in New York!” and your friend would be like, “Listen, I want you out of my house before breakfast tomorrow.”

But if you’re all the way downtown waiting for the one train going up, and the train rounds that corner, and it should be empty because it’s the first stop, but it’s not empty, there’s a homeless guy sitting there, and he’s got his pants all the way down, and he’s masturbating, if you look to the person waiting next to you and you say, “Only in New York!” that person – haha – is going to know right away that you’re not from New York, that you’re not a real New Yorker.

No, real New Yorkers embrace that man. They sit next to him like it’s no big deal. They drop trou and join in on the fun. Because don’t you tell me what the real New York is. You’re not entitled to tell me or anybody else anything about New York. Once you start talking about New York, it’s gone, it’s out of your grasp, and just like that, you’re not a real New Yorker anymore. Maybe someday years from now when you’re visiting those same friends out of town you can look back fondly upon the incident, watching their disgusted reactions as you matter-of-factly explain what went down that one time on the one train. Maybe. Probably not. We’ll see.

But let me break my own cardinal rule for a second here and say that the current real New York thing to do is to write blog posts about how much you hate New York. Do you really hate it? Not really. But you can’t write about how much you love it, because what are you, from Long Island? Everybody knows that doesn’t count. Sorry pal, get back on that 5:37 Long Island Railroad train to Hicksville, I’ll see you next week at the Nassau Coliseum. “I hate New York” is the new cool way of saying, “I love New York.” But whereas the old love slogan was too universal, too easily shared by everybody in the world willing to pay ten bucks for ten “I heart NY” t-shirts, “I hate New York” brings just the right amount of New York exclusivity.

Oh my God my apartment is so small! Holy-moley, could this train be any more crowded? Jesus Louisus, these people in front of me are walking so slow! Seriously, do those cars really need to be honking their horns that loudly? Let me tell you something, you just have to go check out this new gastro-barber shop I found in YahBrah. What neighborhood is YahBrah? Don’t ask, just nod in agreement, tell your friend that you’ve already been there, that the Blendingtown Heights location is much truer to what they’re going for, what they were trying to speak when they jumped on the gastro-barber shop bandwagon.

Because really, New York’s such a terrible place to live, right? Haha. But seriously, I leave New York and I’m like, “Oh my God, New York is making me crazy!” but then you realize, wait a second, it’s a part of me now, I’m a part of it, and so I love it, and I love hating New York, and I love telling everybody that I hate New York, and when somebody says to me, “Well, if you really hate it that much, why don’t you just get out?” and then you can go, “Ha!” because you did it, you nailed it, them, whoever it is you’re talking to, talking about. They don’t get it. They’re not a real New Yorker. Ha.